Starlit Emptiness
by Starisia the Shadow Demon
Summary: You know your both fading, him to the Noah and you to the lotus that taunts you with its glow but you've already made up your mind... Companion piece for 'Hidden Heart'. My Final One-Shot for Yullen Week 2011! M just to be safe


**A/N: YES! YULLEN WEEK ENTRY FOURTEEN! For those of you who're wondering where entry thirteen is, it's on my partner account with Atsuma-1 and it kinda... scarred me for life...Moving on! Anyway this is a companion piece for my 'Disguise' entry, Hidden Heart so I hope you like it!**

**Beta Reader: Kirkland ^_^**

**Theme: Starlight**

**Disclaimer: All I own are the first two seasons of the anime.**

**Warning: Implied lemon and slight spoilers for around chapter 190 but nothing major**

**S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

You don't know what it is, why it's there, that empty feeling that grips your heart like a vice, only that it's always been there. From the moment you were first 'born,' it's been your constant companion, the one consistency you've known throughout your life.

It angers you, knowing that something's missing, something vital, something you don't want to keep going on without. For so long you thought that _she_ was the one you were searching for, the one that could fill the void in your ice bound heart.

But, the instant he entered your life the emptiness was all but obliterated, replaced and burned by the flaming hatred you found yourself feeling for him, a hatred that only seemed to grow more intense the longer you knew he existed.

You make no secret of the immense hate you feel for him, you've never been one to hide such things, and enjoy the heated war of words that more often than not ensues your insults. You don't know why you've hated him from the start, from the first moment you saw those bright silver eyes, so full of life and exuberance that it almost made you sick.

Perhaps it's because he's beautiful, because you pity him. So young, so much potential, yet he's been dragged into this war-filled life that you've already known for half your own. His eyes and flitting, nimble fingers are enamoring, and you find yourself fixed on them, on his eyes, the way he moves, the way he talks. His form is attractive - and it's all you took into consideration for a moment before throwing it aside and dashing away all future plans that had started to form without your consent.

You're at a loss to what it was that suddenly quelled nearly all negative thoughts you had for him, and once again brought forth pity and something else entirely, something that might have bloomed accidently and you aren't too keen on keeping.

It's confusing, annoying, and it sends fury coursing through your veins like molten iron. You never thought that someone could have such an effect on your ice bound heart, never thought you would find someone who could make the smallest sliver of your ice melt and evaporate, but somehow he seems to have managed without even trying, and it does nothing but anger you farther.

You've been comfortable, safe inside your barrier of icy indifference and flaming anger, the two conflicting elements fighting for dominance within your heart, but neither able to destroy the other no matter how fiercely they fought. Then he showed up and something new bloomed deep within that made both your indifference and anger retreat, and you can't seem to get rid of it.

You don't know for sure what 'it' is - or perhaps you do but are too stubborn to admit it, even to yourself. But that can't be so, now can it, Kanda? You never lie to yourself, you never break promises, and you never put another before your mission. At least that's what you tell yourself and make others believe.

And yet, you've sacrificed part of your 'life' for another's sake on numerous accounts, despite your claim that they mean nothing to you, that they are nothing but useless pawns in this seemingly endless game of bloodshed and scorching agony.

You've even saved him, the one you claim to hate so much, going so far as to let another petal fall for _his_ sake, a fact that almost makes you sick.

You want everyone to believe you're cold, reserved, that there is no room in your chilled heart for anything but pride and anger. You want them to believe you are without compassion, without fear but, despite your strength, both physical and mental, despite your attempts to do so you can't escape such things.

Why else would you wake in the middle of the night, dark eyes wide and cold sweat clinging to your well-muscled body? Why else would you find your heart beating like a hummingbird's wing within your chest? Why else would you find yourself unable to fall back to sleep after?

The dream that haunts you doesn't seem like much, and, if someone else told you that they feared something so tedious, you wouldn't hesitate to call them a worthless, gutless coward, barely worthy to breathe, but, for you, the simple dream holds something so much more… _meaningful_.

The falling petals of the withering lotus pierce your heart like your own blade, and it's all you can do to remind yourself that it was only a dream, that the final petal has yet to fall, but it still reminds you that your time on this earth is running out, that you probably won't live long enough to see the end of this wretched war.

Most of the time you don't even bother trying to get back to sleep, choosing instead to take Mugen and either meditate or train, anything to distract you from the dream and the thoughts that often accompany it.

It's on one such night that you first hear the choked sobs that come from _his_ room.

The sound is heart wrenching, agonized, physically painful to hear, and it's all you can do to not bust down his door and pull him into your arms, but you remind yourself that you hate him, that you don't care what's making him sound so pained, sad, almost broken. You remind yourself that, despite his feminine build and almost fragile appearance, he's stronger than most others in this black prison. Instead of waiting a moment longer, you continue on your way, get lost in your training, but even then he intrudes on your thoughts.

You can't help but wonder what could have shattered that godforsaken mask so effectively. You've never seen the boy falter on his path, you've never seen him question the order he served so faithfully, not even when it was announced that he was host to a Noah's memory, no, he hadn't faltered even then.

He'd stood before your fellow exorcists and asked them - asked _you _- to take his life, should the Noah that lay dormant surface. Even as those words left his lips, the wretched mask didn't shatter, didn't falter, didn't so much as _crack_.

When you see him in the halls on that same day, you question whether what you heard just a couple hours ago was truly him.

He seems fine, the usual annoyingly happy grin in place, and like always you have to resist the urge to punch him to make him drop the deceptively happy façade. Instead, you ignore him and continue on your way, but soon, all too soon, you start to see a change in the younger male that makes it almost impossible for you to continue on with your feigned hatred.

His mask is still there, the false smiles and forced cheerfulness you find all too aggravating and transparent are still present, but you can see something in the depths of his stardust silver eyes.

You don't know why you notice the almost imperceptible changes, the almost impossible to see shadows of regret, despair, and _fear_ that come to his eyes when he thinks no one is looking. You don't know why you have to clench your fists and bite your lower lip to keep from tearing him from the others and dragging him to an empty corridor where you can demand to know _what_ the _fuck's_ wrong with him.

It's become harder for you to foster your hatred for him, and you continue to ask yourself _why_. Fury courses through your very veins every time you see that mask, every time you hear his cries - _and you do hear them_.

In the dead of night when everyone else is asleep, and you find yourself wandering the halls. You often find yourself near his room, his muffled sobs and choked cries of anguished heartache only serving to anger you. It's become a constant struggle to hear those sobs, muffled by the wooden door, and not try to confront him in some way.

You tell yourself you only hate the sobs because they annoy you, but it's getting harder and harder to deny the truth.

You thought the hate you felt for them, the ones he served so faithfully, would be enough to destroy any feelings of - whatever it was that you felt for the younger male, would be enough to crush the slowly blooming emotion that had begun forming not too long ago. You thought the mask, that wretched mask that had always been there, the façade that only fed your hatred for the boy, would only help give your heart back over to the hatred you'd found solace in for so long, but it was never like _this_, never so fragile.

You know that no one else can see through it, that only you can see the cracks and fissures that mar his mask, that porcelain facade. You can tell he wants to escape it, you can see it in the shadows that linger more and more in once brilliant silver eyes and the dark circles that have begun to form beneath them, but at the same time you know him.

You know he won't abandon everyone he's come to care for in this hell on earth the war has become. Know he won't drop the mask and _leave_ like you'd wished to do so many times before.

You know he'll no doubt stay within the Order's hold until he's destroyed, taken over by the Noah that dwells within his heart or until he's fallen in battle.

And the thought hurts almost as much as the tests you were once forced to endure for almost half your life.

It's late winter, almost Christmas, when you find yourself unable to sleep. Thoughts of that god damned baka Moyashi race through your mind and prevent that sweet oblivion from claiming you.

You decide to do what you always do when you can't seem to sleep, but one thing you don't expect is to find him sitting outside of your room when you return a few hours later.

"Moyashi?" you call, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't react in any way, just keeps his arms wrapped around his legs and head bowed, and you wonder if he even heard you, "Moyashi!"

Still he doesn't react, and you feel a sense of dread course through you.

"Bean sprout!" you snap once more, and place one hand on his shoulder, shaking violently.

He jolts in surprise and looks up at you, and it's all you can do to keep the annoyance in your expression when you see the fear and confusion in his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here, sprout?" you growl, irritation clear in your tone.

The confusion in his eyes grows before you suddenly catch sight of something you hadn't quite expected. Self-hatred, despair and guilt have taken residence in those once lively silver eyes, and you feel your heart constrict almost painfully. He doesn't answer you, he just wraps his arms tighter around himself and you are barely able to catch the mumbled 'leave me alone' that leaves his lips.

"Che, like I'd listen to an annoying moyashi like you," you say crossing your arms across your chest and leaning back against the wall.

You doubt he knows it's your room he's blocking, and you're not too keen on pointing that out just yet. You don't know what's brought him here, outside of his room with his detestable mask shattered into a thousand shards but you know that, whatever it is, it must be what's made him cry out so many times in the middle of the night, and you detest it all the more.

You don't want to see him in such a state, so you do the only thing that comes naturally, you insult him, calling him a _stupid bean sprout_ and pretty much anything else you can think of that usually gets a rise out of the pitiful, pale form, but he doesn't react no matter what you say and, as loathsome as it is to admit it, it's starting to worry you.

All you seem to be able to do is watch and try to get him back to what he normally is - even if it is no more than a façade created to keep others from seeing this wretched agony he's being forced to endure.

Finally, you just lean back against the wall, arms crossed, and watch him as the sun rises, setting his hair alight with its golden glow, but before it's fully in the sky, you lose your patience.

Next thing you know, you're kneeling in front of him, your hand tangled in the angel-fine strands of soft, snowy hair. You growl and tug at the strands, earning a soft, pained whimper before you tug again, forcing his tear filled silver eyes to meet your cold midnight blue.

"What the fuck's wrong with you, Moyashi?" you snarl, letting anger lace your words. He doesn't want to answer, but if what it takes to bring a rise out of him is a bit of force, well, that's just fine with you.

You stand, tugging at his hair as you go, and taking him with you where you quickly pin him against the cold stone wall, your hand still tangled in his pale locks, you're eyes boring into him in a way that has made more than a few men cower in fear.

But, despite the indifference and anger that remains in your gaze, you certainly aren't prepared when he snaps at you, demanding to know why you care now when you've always hated him, why you're suddenly so interested in a pathetic bean sprout like him.

Though there's fury in his eyes alongside manic venom that seems to be poisoning him from the inside out, there's also desperation and something else that stuns you more than you would have thought possible.

Deep in his eyes, so deep within that you doubt anyone else would ever be able to see, there's a void, an emptiness so much like the one you've endured for years, the one that had been filled with fiery hate when you first met him, but had slowly been growing black and dark as your hatred changed into something so much different, something so much more… _real_.

The anger fades and you see the despair take a stronger hold before he bows his head, and when he speaks again his voice is so different than what it once was.

"You're the only one," he whispers, his tone shattered, broken, and hopeless and you feel a sharp pain in your chest alongside the shock that has taken hold, "You're the only one who hates me for me and not… not because of the Noah…"

Its silent in the corridor and it's clear that he's not about to break it so what will you do, Kanda? You hate the boy that stands before you with every fiber of your loathsome being, that's what you've been telling yourself for so long, but can you really continue on with that lie when you see him like this?

He used to be bright and brilliant, hopeful and so full of life like the stars themselves. The bright pinpricks of light that seemed like they could burn forever, untouched and untainted until the end of time, but now… now his light is dim, your once bright star fading to gray as its hope is slowly devoured by the darkness of its own heart, and it's physically painful to watch, so what will you do?

The answer is obvious, despite the lies you've been living with.

"I don't hate you," you say softly, and feel him tense, fear seeming to come off him in waves as his breath catches in his throat. He wants you to hate him almost as much as you want to, but you can't and it's time you admitted it.

"Wha…?

"I said I don't hate you," you say again, leaning closer so that your breath ghosts over his lips with each half whispered word, "At least not for what you think. Your naivety, your idiocy, the way you always put your life in danger for total strangers when there's no need, and that fucking _mask_ you always wear, I hate it all. It infuriates me."

You barely notice as your grip on his hair tightens and he whimpers in pain as you force him to meet your unreadable midnight eyes, "But the reason I hate _you_, Moyashi, is because, by some fucked up miracle, you've gotten me to _care_ about your pathetic self."

You know he's stunned, but before he can speak, your lips are on his. When he gasps in surprise, you take the opening to slide your tongue between his lips and map out the moist cavern. You hate sweets, but that's the only way to describe his taste and you want _more_.

You feel his hands slide up your stomach, sending a barely suppressed shudder through your body before resting on your chest. You think he's going to push you away, but instead his hands continue their course until they snake around your neck and pull you closer, his tongue starts to move against yours as you greedily swallow his whimpers and moans of pleasure.

You're hyper aware of his heat so close to your own, only adding to the fire coursing through your veins, threatening to burn you alive, and it's all you can do to pull away and allow him to breathe for a moment. You want him, you want him _now_ and you intend to make him yours.

You've already decided to let the consequences be damned.

He's still dazed as you wrap one hand around his wrist and open your door, throwing him on the bed before attacking his lips hungrily.

You give him every opportunity to back out as you remove his shirt and your assault changes from fierce to gentle - a manner you didn't even think you were capable of - and soon your laying feather soft kisses on his fevered skin, leaving a cool trail from his lips, his jaw, his neck, to his chest where the hidden muscle ripples enticingly as shivers of heat and pleasure shake his slim frame.

His voice, his appearance, his shivers, his _taste_, it all does little more than make the fire in your veins burn hotter, _almost_ to the point of pain_,_ but you can't help but want _more_.

He doesn't push you away even once. He surrenders to your touch as your fingers glide across his pale, milky, _addicting_ skin, even going so far as to plead for you to touch him more, and you don't hesitate to do so. You slowly lose yourself in his sweet pants and moans, and soon your moving together as groans escape from your own throat along side his moans despite how you try to keep them in.

Your midnight locks fall lose around your shoulders, silky strands grazing both your pale forms as you move and the heat continues to build between you. You know it'll be over soon. You never want to surrender to this pleasure, but at the same time you want to throw yourself over the edge and take him with you.

The sound of your name all but screamed from those beautiful, rose petal pink, kiss swollen lips sends you over the edge, the fire deserting you in a single crushing wave of pure, blinding bliss as a spasm shakes the form beneath you.

Your strength leaves you and you collapse to the side, your breath ragged and uneven as you pull him into you. He curls closer and you wrap your arms around him, keeping him there as you stare at his beautiful face. His lips are parted, exhausted silver eyes closed to half mast, a pale pink dusting his cheeks and making him look like an angel as the sun's golden glow illuminates his pale form.

"You're not wearing your mask," you observe, noticing the content half smile that's come to his lips, and realize that the emptiness you'd seen in his eyes just a little while ago is gone, something else entirely where it had once been.

"It's because of you," he says softly, and you can't help the small smile that comes to your lips.

Within a few minutes he's asleep, resting peacefully against your chest. You're through lying to yourself, lying to the world and lying to him, and, for some reason, you're more comfortable now then you ever were in your chrysalis of ice. At last you realize what you've been missing all this time, what that void had been waiting for.

The burning flame that filled it before, it wasn't hate or fury; it was longing and a unimaginable _need_ to protect the one who had ignited it. You've never been one to rely on others, but, if it's him, you're willing to swallow your pride and do it for once.

You need him, just as you know he needs you. The stars need the night sky to be seen, to be held tight in its embrace else they fall to the earth or implode in a cloud of flame without the night sky to keep their brilliance alive. The night sky needs the stars to keep it from surrendering to utter blackness.

Without the star's light, it's empty, just like you were before you found _your _star, your Moyashi, your _Allen_.

You know your both fading, him to the Noah and you to the lotus that taunts you with its glow, but you've already made up your mind.

So long as he needs someone to hold him when things get rough, so long as he remains your guiding light, you won't let go.

**S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

**A/N: Okay I admit it, I was starting to worry there. I was up till three a.m. last night working on this and up at eight and i still didn't finish untill around four! I'm fairly happy with the resul though. I'd had this metiphore on my mind for a while so I was happy to finally fnd a reason to use it. I feel that its a good way to end the year with a piece like this but I'll let you guys be the judge of that ;)**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**

**Farewell 2011. It was an awesom year and I thank all the marvelous readers I've gained the past few months.**

**Happy New Years and I love you all!**


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